Opposite of HeavenSent
by crescent-moon-demon
Summary: HaseoxSilabus AU Life was perfect-but a turn of events leave Silabus alone, scared and...intrigued? His life sparred by a seemingly evil deity, Silabus can't help but wonder why. Will his hunger for answers lead to his own damnation...or something else? {Discontinued}
1. Fire and Ash

**C.M.D: Here it is, the long-waited HaseoxSilabus AU! Probably not the first one out there -and unlikely to be the last- but I'm sure you guys are happy all the same that the fandom is getting some attention. Right, right? The idea has been chasing itself around my head for a good while now, but I kept pushing it off because I had so much other stuff to deal with; namely, my other, uncompleted fanfictions. I'm really, really, REALLY bad for doing that... But the time is finally here for a new HaseoxSilabus fanfic! HURRAY!  
>I'll probably do some more AU in the future, and less stories based in The World... because that's haaaaaaard... and somewhat boring. Anyways, go ahead and read!<strong>

**Fire and Ash  
><strong>

Twilight spilled over the hillside, bathing the world in gold and baby blues. The few roosters scrabbling about in the dirt turned their heads to the sky, crowing loudly for all to hear. Farmers, already awake, entered their houses; coming from the farmhouse after milking the cows to rouse the rest of their family. The tanner, the butcher and the blacksmith pulled themselves out of bed, leaving their wives to sleep a little longer, while they headed downstairs to their shops to start the day. Outside, the roosters crowed a few moments more, finally ceasing their wake-up call. By now, the tiny little town was bustling; nearly everyone awake from a brand new day.

Snug in his bed, one young man was reluctant to rise, but eventually the sunlight streaming through his window became too incessant to be ignored any longer. Yawning, he pushed his covers off, getting to his feet. The washbasin he had prepared the night before stood waiting for him on his dresser, and as he washed up, the man looked into the mirror. He brushed damp, brown bangs behind his ear, wiping the last of the sleep out of his eyes as he started to brush his teeth.

As the noise outside increased, the young man dressed himself, adorning a simple green tunic over a red, sleeveless turtleneck, with matching green pants. He had only padded out of the bedroom and into the main area of the house, where the living den and kitchen combined into one room under the worn, thatched roof, when his front door was swung open.

"Good morning, Silabus!," a plump, little boy, greeted; waddling into the house. Many people would be disturbed by the child's appearance at first sight, because he was part of a species called Beasts. But to the aforementioned man -now identified as Silabus- the sight of the boy walking into his kitchen, with floppy pink dog ears and tail, was not so unusual. In his little, nameless village many people of the child's kin lived peacefully here; with only a few humans, Silabus included.

Therefore, the brunette did not leap to his feet at the child's entry; sitting at his table calmly, yanking his leather boots onto his feet. "Good morning Gaspard," he replied. "Managed to slip away from your mother, have you?"

Gaspard's mother, a woman just as plump as her son with the sweetest disposition ever known on a person, had her hands full with nine children. All of whom could be seen tearing through the village at some point and time, causing no end of trouble. Gaspard was the youngest and by far his mother's favourite, being sweet-natured and much more behaved than his older brothers and sisters. Unfortunately this meant that the boy's mother tried to keep an eye on him constantly, fearing he might start misbehaving like his siblings.

Gaspard's imprisonment was having a different effect though. The boy was growing a desire for adventure, which prompted him to sneaking off and joining Silabus during his walks. The brunette never strayed very far from the village, but the woods or the fields were enough to satisfy Gaspard's need for freedom, and the young man didn't mind the boy's presence. Everything they did was safe, and Silabus always made sure that Gaspard was back home well before dinner, so the boy's mother didn't disapprove too much. At the mention of his mom, the plump child scrunched his nose, cautiously looking over his shoulder to the open door as he approached the table.

"Mom's over at Mrs. Tanner's. She got a stretch of cotton from the merchant last week, in lilac. She plans to use it for my sister Maria's wedding dress, and she wants to enlist Mrs. Tanner's help for the project," the boy explained. "I don't think she'll notice my absence for a while."

"Hmmm... but she will eventually," Silabus chuckled. He finished lacing up his boots, grabbing the satchel that sat waiting for him off the table and shouldering it. "Come, let us go outside."

Gaspard dutifully followed after the brunette and out into the bustling town square. Forty tiny houses, each with straw-thatched roofs and simple plank doors, huddled in a lop-sided circle around the tramped earth that made up the village's square. A dirt road winded away and up into the hills surrounding the little town, disappearing from sight over the green incline. Though he had never left the village, Silabus knew that the road led to the large river-side city of Mac Anu. The thriving metropolis was a month's journey away, much too far to travel for a regular person, but the merchants always made their way to this nameless town intermediately throughout the year.

Behind the Tanner's hut was another road, more like a dirt trail than anything else, leading off past the few farm houses that sat behind the village and into the impenetrable forest that loomed behind them. Not many dared to enter too far into the dark trees, except for a few brave souls and the village children trying to out-best each other. It was considered dangerous by many people. Silabus had no intentions of going into the forest today either. He turned and headed for the main road, returning the greetings that came his way. Gaspard tailed along, waving heartily to everyone they passed.

"Going out to the meadow, are ye?," Mrs. Blacksmith called, stepping out from the heat of her husband's forge. In her arms was a basket of laundry.

"Yes," Silabus said, "The weather is good today. I thought to do some work and pick my herbs after."

"Well, take this then dearie," the stout woman replied, pulling a small sack off from the belt around her waist. "A little something to gnaw upon while yer up in those hills."

Gaspard moved forward to retrieve the bundle. "And mind that ye get home well before dusk, the both of thee. Must be wary of bandits and monsters. And o' course," Mrs. Blacksmith added, shifting her load and fixing the plump boy with a look. "Ye wouldn't want to be giving thy mother a fright either."

Gaspard mutely nodded at the warning, returning quickly to Silabus' side. The man chuckled, patting the head of blush-coloured hair. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll have him home well before dinner," the brunette promised.

Mrs. Blacksmith smiled and turned to walk around to the back of her house, where she would wash the laundry and hang it to dry out in the sun. With no further interruptions, Silabus and Gaspard left the village, cresting up the closest hill.

"It's soooo beautiful up here," Gaspard panted as they trekked over the other side. "No matter how many times I see it."

Silabus could understand his young friend's awe. Though the hillside facing the village was more rock than anything else, the top leveled out into a meadow of long, sweeping grass and wildflowers; stretching as far as the eye could see. The beautiful blue sky touched the edges of the meadow, the tender insects of the plain their only other companions. This place could only by described as the brunette's favourite. He loved everything, from the warm breeze playing at the grass, to the delicate perfume of nature's sweetest flora. When Silabus needed peace, this was where he usually came.

Both males wadded out a little further into the meadow, settling down on a padded patch of earth; Silabus pulling a thick journal and pen from his satchel. "Do you think you'll ever finish?," Gaspard asked, indicating to the book. Silabus smiled, slowly turning the pages. Each turn revealed a small sketch of an animal or plant on the parchment, coupled with a long, detailed analysis of the specimen. It was a hobby of Silabus' to document the things around him, and the attributes that those things possessed. Not many people could understand why he did it, but the brunette didn't mind. It kept him interested, and satisfied his curiosity at the same time.

"I'd like to think it'll be one day," the man replied.

Gaspard laid out on the grass on his stomach, resting his chin on his knuckles; looking up at the brunette adoringly. "It would be great if you did," the boy agreed. "It'll be the first book ever, with all the information about the trees and animals."

"I hardly think my encyclopedia will be the first ever," Silabus chuckled, as he started to pen in a sparrow on a blank page. "Besides there are many more creatures and plants out there that I have never seen before. No, I don't think my book will mean much when it is complete, but I will be satisfied if I can share it with the villagers at least."

Gaspard said nothing at this, rolling over and gazing up at the sky. He called out the shapes he saw, building stories to the cloud castles and dragons that shifted his way, as Silabus worked in his journal; happily conversing with the boy. The day grew warmer as noon approached, the air being filled with the sound of buzzing insects.

* * *

><p>"It seems like we'll have a good harvest," Silabus commented as they had their lunch. Chewing on the bread and cheese Mrs. Blacksmith had given them for their meal, Gaspard glanced up at the man.<p>

"What do you mean?," he asked through a mouthful.

"The insects," Silabus chuckled, wiping the crumbs off the child's face. "There's a lot of them this year. They'll help pollinate the crops and we'll have a plentiful harvest."

_'And a good thing too,'_ Silabus thought._ 'Our village couldn't survive another winter because of failed crops.'_ The man was pulled out of his thoughts by Gaspard who stared at the brunette inquisitively, one hand tugging on Silabus' tunic, the other holding his forgotten, half-eaten lunch.

"Yes, Gaspard?"

"Do you smell smoke?"

It took half a second for the question to register in his mind before Silabus was leaping to his feet, his book and pen tumbling to the ground from his lap. "No! You stay here Gaspard," he ordered the boy, who had jumped to his feet as well. "I'm going to look ahead."

Hoping the child would listen to his instructions, Silabus ran back to the edge of the meadow, stopping for a moment at the hilltop and staring at the scene down below. It was a sight of utter chaos. Away from the buzzing insects he could hear the screaming of the villagers and the crackling of the fire as it devoured their homes and ate at their crops. A few men were trying to file together a fire line, but too many people were in a state of panic to help much. Knowing he was needed, Silabus stumbled down the hillside, tripping among the rocks as he raced for the bottom.

Thick, black smoke caught him in the face as he headed for the village, blown off of one of the burning roofs; sending him into a coughing fit. Fanning his face uselessly, Silabus backtracked, running away from the acrid cloud and into cleaner air. He rounded around to the back of the village, a row of houses on his left. Someone cried from that direction and blinking the tears out of his eyes, the brunette turned to the sound.

"Hang on!," he shouted to a little Beast girl.

She was trapped within one of the burning houses, banging on the window, screaming her face off in terror. Silabus ran to her, trying to open the window from the outside. It would not budge. The child cried more still, hacking from the smoke. The brunette looked around him desperately, picking up a rock from the mud, gesturing wildly for the little girl to move. She did, long enough for him to hurl the rock through the stubborn glass. Not caring about his own safety, Silabus hurriedly knocked out the rest of the glass, pulling the girl over the frame and out of the inferno.

She howled like crazy, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around his body. "It'll be okay," Silabus mumbled into her sooty hair. "It'll be alright." He stumbled away from the house as it groaned ominously, collapsing behind him with a great shudder. The girl's distraught mother came running forward as Silabus stepped into the clear, practically ripping the child from his arms in relief.

"C'mon!," Silabus pushed mother and child. "We need to get out of here!"

They were jogging to the edge of the village when cackling laughter and thundering hooves rendered the air. With new panic, the villagers run away from the forest's edge, where they were taking shelter, and back into the flaming town. Bandits, all human, broke through the dark trees, streaming through the black smoke, swinging swords and axes. They swooped upon the fleeing villagers, cutting them down and herding them deeper into the burning village.

"C'mon now!," a voice shouted over the din. "Round 'em up."

Silabus stumbled back into his village with the others, clasping both hands over his mouth as black smoke filled his lungs. As he choked, he knew without a doubt that unless something else happened soon, something to change the tide of this madness, he and the others would either die from smoke inhalation or be brutally massacred by the bandits. Silabus walked further into the flames, away from the approaching bandits. On their steeds, they seemed unaffected by the clouting smoke and hot fire; dark eyes searching eagerly for the poor villagers, ready to slaughter them once found.

Was this how he was going to die?

_'No!',_ the brunette thought, shaking his head wildly. This couldn't just be the end of it! He dropped to the ground, scrambling through the dirt, listening to the screams of the villagers all around him. When his fingers closed over the largest rock he could grasp, Silabus clambered back onto his feet, clutching the rock to his chest tightly. Not giving himself a second further to think about the foolish act he was about to do- because it was beyond a doubt foolish- Silabus ran through the cloud of smoke, hurling his rock at the nearest bandit.

It missed by a mile.

Angered that someone would dare try to attack him, the bandit slid off his horse and stomped to the dazed brunette. Seconds too late, Silabus realized he should have run away. As the other man's fingers wrapped around his throat, the brunette felt truly afraid.

"Stupid bastard," the bandit hissed, punching the young man. Silabus doubled over, arms wrapping around his gut where the thug had punched him. Still gripping the brunette's throat, the bigger man followed through with several more punches, the last being a fist to the temple. Silabus went limp in the man's hand after that one, and with a snort of disgust, the bandit flung him into some smoldering ashes.

Silabus could hear the bandit that had beat him order the others to circle the rest of the villagers and strip them before killing them; but the brunette thought no more about that. His injured mind was only able to focus on the sharp pains that shot through his body with every breath, getting fainter each time; and the flames that drew ever closer to his prone form, even as the darkness around his eyes loomed nearer. Slowly, painfully, Silabus closed his eyes.

_'So, this is death... I-it's almost... cold...'_

The young man wearily opened his eyes; praying, hoping he'd be able to see the sun at least one more time before darkness took him completely. No sunlight greeted him, but another sight that greatly surprised the brunette. Standing over him was a figure in black armor, tattered cloak flapping in the hot wind behind him. Perhaps because of his head injury, Silabus did not question the shadows that clung to the other male's body. Nor did he notice that when the stranger looked at him that there was no proper face to be seen, only a veil of darkness that blurred out all details. Still, Silabus did not feel fear, knowing instinctively that this person was not one of the bandits.

"T-t... the... v-villagers...," the brunette croaked, making his plea to the stranger. He could hear the others screaming still amid the bandits evil laughter; the tortured cries of another villager as they were struck down.

The individual kneeled, his black armor clinking as he shifted closer to the brunette. With one clawed hand -Silabus took it to be gloved. All of the stranger's armor protruded in dangerous spikes- the youth touched the man's shoulder before rising again to his feet. His dark cloak swirled about him as he walked further into the fiery fray; the red and orange light not even enough to penetrate his shadows. Silabus watched the stranger stride toward where the villagers screams could be heard, until he was no longer in sight; and feeling at peace, the brunette closed his eyes once more.

Ready for the death that awaited him.

* * *

><p>There was a terrible pounding behind his ears. Slowly, cautiously, Silabus opened his eyes, gasping as sharp sunlight pierced his retinas. Closing his eyes against the onslaught, the brunette pushed himself off from the ground, the ache in his head increasing with the motion. Confused, Silabus opened his eyes again -slower this time- studying his surroundings. All around him were blackened huts, some having fallen in on themselves while their brethren still stood, scarred by the flames that had blazed through the village earlier. The fire was gone now, but smoke still rose from the smouldering ruins.<p>

Rising from the bed of ash he had been lying in, Silabus stumbled through the wreckage, wondering if he was the only one alive. He choked in relief when he found the rest of the villagers huddled together near the hills; dirty and terrified, but alive.

"Silabus!," a voice cried.

A plump, colourful body detached from the rest of the grey mass, running for the young man. Gaspard hugged Silabus tightly, crying into the brunette's chest. "I-i-i-i thought y-you d-died!," the boy wailed.

Smiling understandably, Silabus hugged the child back, feeling tears prick at his own eyes. "I'm alive," he mumbled in assurance. "I'm alive."

Straightening up, Silabus wiped at his cheeks, patting Gaspard's head. "It must of been that man. Did you see him? He was dressed in black armor. He came after the bandits. He must of saved us!"

Gaspard stepped back from Silabus, his rotund face pale. "But Silabus...," the boy whispered. "I was watching from the hill the entire time. There was no man."

"What, now that's just silly, Gaspard," the brunette laughed. "Maybe you didn't see him through the smoke. He was really here though. He touched my shoulder and listened to my plea before I lost consciousness. He stopped the bandits, like I asked!"

The following silence was deafening. Gaspard bowed his head, not looking up at the young man. Silabus stared puzzled from the child, turning his gaze to the rest of the villagers; a queerness filling his stomach heavily. "But... I mean..." Gaspard's mother stepped forward, yanking her son back. She shuffled quickly back into the crowd.

"If you were seeing a stranger in black armor," the butcher growled, fangs bared, stepping before the others, "It was no man that you were seeing. He's been marked by Death!," he yelled, looking to the villagers. "The God Skeith came for us today but answered this fool's plea. We've been spared a peaceful enough death for an even worse fate!"

Silabus flinched at the accusation and raised his hands imploringly. "No, that's not right!," he started to say, but the villagers shuffled away from his outstretched hands, trembling with fright. Lowering his hands slowly, Silabus turned away from the others, walking back into the ravaged village.

* * *

><p>The light of a new day dawned on the village, revealing the charcoaled skeletons of the homes that once housed happy lives. Now their residents marched through the destruction, disturbing the ashes of their former lives to unbury anything salvageable. Mutely, they piled their belongings onto the only two carts that had survived the fire, tethering the last of their cattle to the front. Sitting before the ruins of his own home, Silabus watched with distant eyes as the villagers shuffled around him, all ignoring his presence as they went about their tasks. He did not shift through the broken pieces of his house like the others, but remained sitting, watching as the villagers prepared to leave.<p>

"Silabus...," a meek voice said. Gaspard shuffled into the brunette's view, checking over his shoulder before taking a seat beside the man. In his hands was the man's satchel. "Here, I-i got this from the meadow for you," Gaspard held out the bag, but when Silabus would not take it, he set it on the ground between them. He glanced out quietly at the others, before turning his attention back to the brunette.

"Aren't you coming?," the boy asked. Silabus blinked, but did not answer. Gaspard grabbed his friend's hand, wide, pleading eyes turned up to the brunette. "Silabus, please... come with us. You can't stay here. We have no more homes or food... How will you survive?"

A weary smile came to Silabus' face and he pulled his hand out of the child's grip. "Your mom is looking for you," the brunette said. In a sense, it was the truth. The reality though was that she was glaring at the young man from beside the carts; her fear of the brunette being the only thing that kept her from stomping over and tearing her son away. Silabus patted Gaspard's head, paying no mind to the tears in the child's eyes.

"Go on," Silabus urged, pushing the boy to his feet. "The carts will be leaving soon."

Gaspard shuffled in place, not wanting to leave the brunette's side; but at the hills, the butcher and blacksmith were pushing the cows into motion. The animals lowed deeply, plodding up the steep incline, assisted by the men. Finally Gaspard realized he had no choice but to turn away. "Goodbye Silabus," he whispered, jogging after his mother.

The man said nothing, watching in silence once more as the villagers trekked up the hill, disappearing over the crest. The sun reached its top pinnacle, and slowly, Silabus rose; walking through the desert town and into the dark forest.

**C.M.D: When I finally started to write, this chapter came out in under an hour. And I practically loved it from the get-go! With just a few tweaks and such, it's become this awesome little prologue. Hopefully, this story will be complete sooner than ever so there won't be any dreadful long update periods for you, my dear readers. After all, AU is so much easier to write... which is why I guess I like it more; coupled in with the whole fantasy element that I love... Anyways, hope you liked it. Review and tell me your thoughts!  
>PS- I am continuing <em>A Touch of Death<em>, but it's currently under progress until both this cold leave me and inspiration returns. Sorry about the delay!  
><strong>


	2. Wandering

**C.M.D: Okay, so, second chapter~ Yay! And only a month after this story was first posted. Hopefully the updates will come faster with this one then with _A Touch Of Death_ (don't kill me!) Well, ummm... not much to say now. New story= lack of stuff to ramble on about. But before we get to the main feature, THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING: ben4kevin _(you're always so faithful~ Have a virtual cupcake!)_, JessieKage and Kyuubi! For a new story, and for such a small fandom, three reviews is quite exceptional! I love you all, and I love anyone else reading this. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**

**Wandering**

_The dark of the forest surrounded him; kept him safe in its clutches. He could hear strange things moving through the underbrush; slithering, stamping and creeping their way, until only silence and darkness remained. He blinked, noting that there was hardly any difference between the blackness before his eyes or behind his lids. His stomach made a strange little hiccup of a gurgle -it's final protest at the treatment it had been forced to endure. But he did not care. His life was ruined... abandoned, he waited for starvation to finally claim him. The shadows twisted and curled; a silent figure stepping through the trees and approaching him from his left. He turned his head wearily, smiling up at the faceless apparition._

_"You finally came..."_

* * *

><p>"There ya go dearie," the tigress said, holding the bundle out. Two scruffy hands accepted the parcel gratefully, pulling it to a cloaked chest. The Beast woman did not mind that the stranger practically stuffed the bundle into a satchel; hiding both back under his cloak. Food these days was scarce and even travelers had to protect all they could from vagabonds.<p>

"Thank you," the man replied, a tired smile pulling at his lips. The tigress could see from his amber eyes that he was sincere.

"It's not very often that we meet men of such golden orbs," she remarked, crossing her arms over her broad chest. "And certainly not many that are unafraid of our kin."

The stranger inclined his head slightly, his eyes full of understanding. "I am well aware," he croaked. He grimaced at the sound, touching his throat lightly. The woman sighed, turning to her caravan and digging out a waterskin.

"Drink," she commanded, throwing the bag to the young man. He stumbled to catch it, his hood dropping from the action. With his head uncovered, the tigress was able to get a clear view of the man. She studied him openly, looking from his brown hair, which curled about his ears before the last of its length was tied back with a simple thong; to the unblemished flesh of his face, bright, amber eyes set on the fair skin -not so fair now, considering it was covered in a good layer of road dust and mire. Not noticing the inspection, the brunette straightened up with the waterskin, lips latching around the mouth piece and drinking deeply.

"I'm a little worried about ya, dear," the tigress confessed as she watched the stranger drink. "It's late in the season for anyone to be travelling -ourselves, included- and noone would tempt it with as little baggage as you've got. Ya haven't even a waterskin! The winter will be on us soon; I can't be sure if the cold or starvation will kill ya first."

The man chuckled humorlessly under his breath, capping the waterskin and holding it out for the Beast to take. The woman merely shook her head, ears flicking until he had conceded to her gift and pocketed the waterskin as well. "Many villages have suffered attack," the tigress sighed, when the man remained silent. She looked about her troupe then, taking in each of the several caravans and carts that made up their train. Every single one was manned by a family of Beasts.

"It's nice to know that not so many humans are as hateful to us as it appears. All the same, we'll be hard-pressed to find someplace to shelter before the end of the season." The female turned her attention back to the brunette before continuing. "Do yourself a favour, okay? Get to the city. They'll be kinder there to a harmless beggar of human kind, than to a homeless Beast."

The man nodded his head at her advice, whispering his small piece before turning away. The tigress allowed him to go, knowing that solitude and rest were wanted reprieves after a hard day's travel. Stumbling somewhat, Silabus walked away from the circle of caravans; finding a sparse patch of grass to lay upon. Exhausted, the man collapsed on the spot, curling under his tattered cloak. _'So tired...'_ the brunette thought.

His weary eyes followed the activities of the rest of the troupe; feeling his lips quirk in nostalgia. He had been with these strangers for only a day, but already he had grown attached to them, and they, in turn, to him. Yet, they still remained wary of the young man, which was proper in its own way. This was not the first troupe of Beasts Silabus had come across during his treks, and he doubted it would be the last. The brunette was aware that crop failures were forcing tiny villages out onto the roads; a string of raids on these little abodes increasing in amount and rumor.

Silabus had heard plenty while among this particular caravan group, and each tale -whether false of true- turned his blood cold. Human bandits were ravaging all outer towns, killing and stealing indiscriminately, though Beasts were their primary target. Even worse, larger villages and cities were refusing to assist the survivors; allowing Beast and man alike to be massacred on the road by other thieving parties. Hearing all this, Silabus worried for his own villagers.

Were they safe?

Had Gaspard and his mother, the butcher, or any of the other villagers met the same horrible fate?

The brunette sighed as the worries overcame him once again; doing his best to push them aside, rolling over and away from the sights and sounds of the rest of the caravans. The young man didn't know what had become of his villagers, and so it was best that he didn't think of them any longer. The chances of meeting any of them again was slim... and besides, they would not speak to him anyhow. He had been marked by death, after all. A peal of laughter tore though his thoughts and Silabus jolted at the sound. As the noise receded, he closed his eyes once again, fatigue taking him into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>He was up the next morning, before the sun had even yet peeked over the horizon, assisting the others as they began to pack up camp. The tigress from the day before found him as the oxen were being tethered to the caravans; a traveling scarf about her head. "Ya won't be coming with us then?," she asked, watching as the brunette straightened his cloak, amber eyes fixed north.<p>

"No," he answered, turning to the woman. "I must thank you for the provisions. I don't thi-"

"Don't worry about it," the tigress interrupted. She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I would tell ya to come with us, but I can see that ya have yer mind set. Yer destination mayhaps be unknown, but the direction is clear in yer eye."

Silabus smiled kindly. "I apologize for my foolishness."

"Bah! We all be fools; but it matters only what the end result is rather than the method," she countered, waving off his apology. The Beast looked over her shoulder to where the first of the caravans were creaking into motion. Her mate sat at the helm of their own home, near the back of the line, waiting for her.

"Looks like we are heading out... Take care," the tigress said, facing the young man once more. She patted his cheek warmly, taking care not to harm him with her claws. "And may Magus watch over ya."

Silabus watched the woman turn and return to her troupe, his brow furrowed at the strange name she had uttered.

He had never heard such a name before.

He stayed standing, eyes on the caravans, until they had driven too far ahead that he could no longer discern them from the landscape, before the brunette was turning on his heel; heading North. The tigress had been right to imply that he was a fool. A cold wind blew across the plane, making the young man shiver and once again take note of how close winter was. Any wise traveler would head south, to where there were more villages and warmer weather, instead of the opposite direction. But Silabus felt a tugging within him that couldn't be explained; turning him north, to darkness and cold, and who knew what else.

As a forsaken man, Silabus did not feel so inclined to argue with the headings. He took his first step to what would most assuredly be a long day, starting another grudging trek. When evening finally approached, the brunette had covered what felt like miles, yet he was still surrounded by a dry, rocky plane; only sparsely covered in vegetation. Locating himself a safe enough place to sleep, to gain some cover from wandering thieves or predators, Silabus allowed himself a moment to relax; pulling his satchel out from under the safety of his cloak. Munching on a piece of stale bread and a string of beef jerky, Silabus took one last thing from his satchel: his book.

The book, along with some feather pens and ink, were all that he owned now; saved from the fire when he had handed them to Gaspard the day their village had been attacked. Half of the pages were filled with things that the brunette deemed ridiculous now; the rest empty and frayed, like his life. Separating the blank pages from the full ones was a single page with just one name written on it: Skeith. Fingers trembling slightly, with exhaustion as well as possible hunger (Silabus was loathe to eat another thing. He did not know when he'd be able to get food again), the man uncapped his ink bottle, dipping a slightly ruffled quill into the black liquid. Under the first strange name, he wrote another; the 'Magus' that the tigress had mentioned.

For a moment, Silabus squinted at the glistening letters, the moonlight being just enough for him to see the contrast between paper and ink. "Who are you?," he mumbled to himself. "_What_ are you?"

The brunette capped his bottle again, slipping both pen and ink back into his satchel. Puzzled still, over these apparent deities that he had never heard of before, Silabus laid out across the ground, closing his book and using it as a pillow. It was a testament to how tired he was that he fell asleep so quickly and didn't rouse again until morning.

* * *

><p>Another day, another destroyed village. Silabus walked through the blackened ruins, hardly feeling afraid, worried or even anxious. There were many things that the brunette didn't feel these days. He knew that was wrong; that he should have felt something, but a haze filled his mind and his numbness smothered out all else. This affliction had been rising since the destruction of his own village. Apathetic, Silabus had waited for Death. He was marked, cursed or whatnot... he had half-expected Skeith to come back quickly and take him away. But after a few days, no such thing had occurred, other than his own curiosity growing.<p>

Silabus couldn't help it. He was an inquisitive young man, well educated, but for all his lessons and schooling, he did not recall ever hearing of that hideous name until the day of his ostracization. The need to know, to understand more about the figment that the other villagers had believed in so fiercely, had forced him to his weak knees and leave the forest surrounding the remains of his home; heading North of all places. It had dulled at times, but his mind's damn will was overpowering even his heart's wishes, making him continue onwards despite becoming so numb once again. Plumes of ash rose with his every step, shading his legs black before he had even crossed half of the village. Silabus paused in what appeared to be the center of the village, his eyes lighting upon the stone totem erected in the square.

It must of once been a statue, his mind reasoned, for it was ragged and choppy all around, as if it used to have limbs or more detailed edges; covered in black streaks from the fire. Curiosity piqued, the brunette stepped closer to inspect the ruined statue. Not many villages had monuments; one, because it cost too much to pay for a carving; and two, because stone was hard to come by in a village so poor and wouldn't be used on such whimsical things like statues and the like. Its appearance then was surprising to Silabus, who concluded that this village was too poor to have such a thing, from the charcoaled ruins, few that they were. Little ruins, but lots of scorch marks, meant that the huts here were built with weak materials -most likely jumbled branches held together with twine substituting as walls. The village didn't even have a well...

His fingers were on the mutilated statue before he could stop himself, wandering across the craggy surface, turning darker and darker as they disturbed the ash. Silabus couldn't pull away -even when the rational part of his mind protested at his disregard for the dead here. The mystery of the ruined monument was too good to pass up. The brunette's fingers brushed on a much softer spot on the stone, and perplexed, Silabus turned his whole attention on the spot. He brushed it again and realizing it was a niche in the stone, he hurriedly dug out the ash and grime, feeling a strange tugging in the very depths of his mind.

He stepped back almost immediately after, staring at the strange gouge in the rock. It looked... familiar. Silabus inched closer to the mark again, reaching out and placing his hand in the groove. His eyes flew open at how his palm fit almost perfectly, except for the parts that narrowed into jagged, little lines.

_Claws._

Heart pounding in terror now, the young man stumbled away from the statue; hurrying from the ruins.

* * *

><p>Silabus knew that hand print belonged to Skeith.<p>

He couldn't be sure how he knew this, but he felt that truth burning so fervently within his soul that he could not shake the thought no matter how hard he tried. It stuck with him, making the young man tremble with fear, and surprisingly, wonder as well. This unknown apparition seemed to be real.

Well, that just made the brunette all the more curious, so much that he knew he would not be able to rest until had learned all he could about this dark deity. Pulling his cloak tightly to his body, Silabus strained to see in the darkness. His book laid open on his knees, turned to another blank page. His fingers deftly twisted the cap off his ink bottle, quill tip dipping into the black liquid and to the white paper in one fluid movement that he had perfected over the years. Quickly, he drew out the hand print from the stone, dipping his pen into the ink again to fill in the spaces between the lines. He re-inked the quill one last time to make a little note beside the sketch, before putting both book and writing utensils back into his satchel.

He had to know more.

Silabus could feel frustration creeping in as the mystery of this secret being continued to grow, with no answer near in sight. _'I must go somewhere there is knowledge,'_ the brunette surmised. If he wanted any hope of solving this he would need to get his hands on some texts. Surely there was at least one tome containing the riddle of Skeith and Magus. After all, there was nothing that wasn't documented. But to find such a book he would have to head to the city... Mac Anu in particular. The riverside city was best known for its records; aside from its booming trade industry. Silabus hesitated at the idea though.

Mac Anu had been the best place for his villagers to head to... that they might actually have received help from the industrious human metropolis was unlikely. All the same, the thought of running into any of them again chilled the brunette's bones. He was doing all he could to escape from the curse that they had put upon him; he did not need that stigma following him all the way to Mac Anu. Shadowed by death... no one would help him then if they knew. But he had to go, Silabus decided, curling in tighter to himself, eyelids growing heavy with fatigue.

He had to access the city's archives; see what he could find in the records. He would learn all he could of these unknown deities, and perhaps then... perhaps then his mind would allow him peace enough to release him from this world. He could feel reality weighing on him... Silabus just wanted to finally sleep. Eternal and true.

Closing his eyes, the brunette promised himself that he would head from Mac Anu in the morning.

**C.M.D: ...A little shorter than last update, but still enjoyable, yes? The mystery thickens and depression swamps Silabus! Oh, what will become of our favourite brunet? Stay tuned to find out!  
>Thoughts? Feelings about the chapter? Even a complaint? Just clicky that lovely button there that says 'REVIEW' and share it all with me~!<strong>


	3. Mac Anu

**C.M.D: Well, would you look at that, I finally got around to updating this thing! Jeez, and here I was hoping to have an update every month, and the last time I posted something for this fic was... umm... five months ago -_-; Right, definitely need to work on that. Anyways, as per usual... THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING: Kyuubi, ben4kevin, JessieKage, Raina Death, kitsunova, o and Axl01! Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out, but I'm glad to know you were all enjoying the story thus far. I hope you'll like this update just as much as the others~**

**Mac Anu**

Warm, afternoon sunlight descended on the bustling town of Mac Anu, bathing it in a veil of muted orange and coppers. Down by the pier, the city thrived; merchants and fishmongers filling every space of the lichen-covered cobblestone pathways. The din they created was almost unbearable, but between the sashaying of the waves and the harking call of mothers attempting to collect their children, it was a sound that comforted and soothed many a soul.

It was a sound like home.

Following the dingy paths from the riverside marketplace, several roads snaked up towards the higher hills that made up the city. White limestone walls sparkled in the dying light; majestic and strong with their wide-set columns, open archways and piercing towers. Bathed in the calm orange of a setting sun, Mac Anu was a picture of serenity and prosperity. The library especially was a crown jewel of the city.

Located near the pinnacle of the riverside metropolis, beyond two stone wall gates and across a bridge where water flowed below, coming from a stream that poured out into the sea. Stained glass window panes near the top of the building reflected the sunlight, making it shimmer brilliantly, as if living flame was trapped within. But that was only the outside... past the double, gold-clad oak doors was something even more magnificent: row upon row of leather-bound books and aging tomes on ivory shelves, that continued for miles and further below the main level of the building.

It unfortunately was not a sight many were privy to.

Hunched on the limestone steps sat a cloaked stranger. The hood was pulled low over his eyes; dirty hands clenching the tattered flaps close to his form. Richly dressed people passed him up and down the stairs, heads turned sharply forward as they ignored the filthy traveler, giving him wide berth as they went. With distant eyes, Silabus watched the other humans move by him, catching the scowls and disgusted half-glances they spared him. He understood that he was a blight on their "perfect world"; an unsightly smear of mud and filth upon the city's most illustrious landmark.

He had not meant to be...

The clanking of armour drew the brunet's attention. Slowly, he looked over a shoulder, watching the sentry approach. The red-clad knight placed a gloved hand upon the pommel of his sword; eyes glittering almost unseen behind the visor of his helm, and a scowl fixed onto his visible lower jaw. "You're blocking the path," the sentry said lowly.

He wasn't really, Silabus knew. The staircase leading up to the library was wide enough to accommodate a throng of several hundred people.

"Move."

He couldn't just leave though. He had to get inside that building; needed to speak to either the Records Master or else browse the tomes himself for answers to the questions he bore.

"I said, 'move' scum!"

Silabus groaned lowly as he was kicked forward, the skin of his palms cutting and bleeding as he thrust them forward to stop his sudden descent. Lifting his head, the young man was dismayed to find multiple sets of eyes on him suddenly. Nearby, people had stopped walking, hands to their faces as they whispered back and forth to each other; cold gazes fixed on the brunet.

"Get up," the sentry growled. "On her Majesty's order, you will leave these steps vagabond, or be dutifully escorted away. There are no scraps for you to pick here." The knight was as true as he was vicious. He would sooner manhandle Silabus away from the library then let him rest in peace.

Seeing no other alternative, Silabus shakily got to his feet, hobbling down the steps and away from the library. Once he was past the throng of nasty glares and curled upper lips, the young man took refuge in the shade between the two gates, huddling into a corner as he inspected his wounded hands. They were shallow cuts, he knew, but they bled black through the dirt and grime covering his skin. They would get infected if he did not clean them soon. With a silent sigh, Silabus wiped his hands on a corner of his cloak, until the bleeding stopped.

"Sorry. Sorry, pardon me! Oh, my sincerest apologies!"

Amber eyes lifted to see what all the commotion was about and was startled when he saw a squat mole stumble under the first stone gate's archway. It was a bonified Beast! Since coming to Mac Anu, Silabus had not yet seen hide nor hair of their kin, and seeing one now almost amazed him with its presence. The mole tripped over his long robe as he tried to evade smacking into yet another pedestrian, crashing to the floor. The books and scrolls he held scattered across the ground, his tiny spectacles bouncing off the bridge of his nose.

"Oof...," the Beast whimpered softly.

The humans around him sneered at his misfortune, quickly moving on. Not a single one bothered to help the little mole. Unable to resist seeing another hurt, Silabus moved forward, until he stood just before the blind creature. "Let me help you...," the brunet mumbled, bending down and assisting the mole onto his feet.

"W-why thank y-you," the Beast stuttered. Silabus collected his cracked frames from the floor, dusting them off a little before handing them back to the other. The mole took them gratefully, setting them firmly at the base of his nose. "O-oh my!," he gasped, squinting behind his glasses. "Oh, sir, I did not mean to trouble you so! Please, forgive me for dirtying your hands and-"

"You have no need to apologize," Silabus quickly cut in. Why was this noble creature being so contrite for? He had done nothing wrong. "I have been this way since leaving my home... though, there are some new additions..." He held out his palms, fingers spread to show the ragged skin.

"Oh my...," the mole gasped again. He carefully touched the young man's hands, fingers prodding just around the torn areas. "The sentries... sometimes, they are more aggressive than they need be. Come, let me clean those for you. I would not wish for you to get them infected."

Silabus quickly withdrew his hands again. "No, no... it is alright. I don't need-"

"Nonsense!," the Beast cut in, silencing anymore of the other's protests. "You have been considerate, worrying for my well-being; let me return the kindness."

"...I suppose...," Silabus mumbled back. He watched as the mole bent to retrieve his fallen items, reaching forward as well to help. The Beast cried out in alarm though when he did, stuttering apologies as he quickly snatched the scrolls out of the human's reach.

"I-i'm so sorry, sir, b-but I can not allow th-these sc-scrolls to be dirtied," he explained anxiously. "N-not to say that y-you are dirty, b-but w-with y-your hands..."

"Don't worry about it," the brunet replied. He smiled wearily. "I understand quite well."

The mole straightened up, shuffling on his paws nervously. "Right, well, follow me," he finally said, turning to the stone wall. Silabus furrowed his brow, confused. There was only a wall before them; how was he supposed to- The young man's thoughts were derailed as he watched in amazement as the Beast reached forward, pressing something unseen on the limestone, causing a section of the wall to retract; revealing an opening large enough for a being of his size to enter. "Come along," he smiled back at Silabus. "Mind your head."

Silabus looked a moment or two longer at the hidden entrance, before he followed after the Beast; ducking to be able to fit into the smaller doorway. There came the cranking of gears as the wall behind them started to slide back in place; covering the door once more. "Just keep close to me now," the other said. "The lights get dimmer the further we go in, but they'll brighten up once we reach the main room. My name is Bartholomew by the way."

"Silabus," the young man replied. He kept a firm eye on the mole in front of him, before darkness swept in and robbed him of his sight.

* * *

><p>They had walked for what felt like hours through the darkness, twisting and turning down invisible tunnels, heading deeper and deeper with every step. His muscles were just beginning to cramp up from being stooped so long, when a soft, white glow up ahead announced their exit. "Here we are," Bartholomew smiled, and surely they were. The mole skittered off ahead to set down his scrolls and books before going to search for medical supplies, allowing Silabus a chance to study his new surroundings.<p>

The room most have been giant. Stone columns were dispersed intermittently throughout the room, reaching up to the ceiling -or, well, what the young man thought to be the ceiling. There was only a veil of darkness up above him and making up all the corners of the room. It was like he was living in another realm, just within this tiny bubble of light, from the few oil lamps sitting on the couple of long, wooden tables set on either side of him. If he strayed from the this circle... would he find some dark creature waiting for him in the shadows? Silabus wandered a little to the edge of the light, peering into the black.

"I've got it!"

The cheerful voice actually startled the brunet for a second. Hand held to his chest, Silabus slowly turned around, looking at Bartholomew. The Beast seemed suddenly taken a back that he had frightened the other -he quickly bowed his head, mumbling apologies. "L-let me see your h-hands," he said, gesturing for the human to come forward.

Silabus did so, holding his hands out for the mole patiently. He waited until the other had wiped the dirt from his wounds, before voicing the questions buzzing around in his mind. "Where are we? How far did we travel?"

"Hmmm, oh, not far," Bartholomew answered, pulling clean linen from his small, wooden box of supplies. "We are in the library's catacombs, just under the Hall of Records and right above the Archives. This is where I and the other advocates work, repairing the tomes or otherwise cataloging the materials. Mac Anu has a vast collection, but it takes a lot of work to maintain it all."

Silabus couldn't believe his luck. "Bartholomew...," he whispered, leaning in closer. The mole finished knotting the last of his bandage, looking up at the brunet. "...Do you know anything of the one named Skeith?"

The Beast's pale visage lighted to green, little nose shivering and tiny eyes widened behind his spectacles. "H-how do you know that name?," Bartholomew questioned, quickly stepping away from the human. "Y-you shouldn't know that name. I-it's not possible, I mean-"

"So you know it! Please, Bartholomew, you must show me which book talks about him," Silabus begged. "I need to know what this thing is. It's the only way I can finally be at peace."

"N-no," the mole choked, shaking his head quickly, "No,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no,no."

"Please!," the young man pleaded again. He rushed forward, grabbing Bartholomew by the shoulders. "Please, you must help me! At the very least, direct me in the right direction; I can search for the book myself."

"I c-can't!"

"Bartholomew!"

"N-no, y-you don't understand, I-i-i really c-can't," Bartholomew protested. He lifted teary eyes to Silabus. "There is no book, that is why. The being that you speak of... he is not written in any text, tome or scroll. There is no documentation of him because he simply does not exist within Human mythology. He is one of the Ancients... the Gods that used to rule this world."

"That... that can't be," Silabus mumbled to himself. He released the mole, shuffling backwards, collapsing onto the nearest table stunned. "H-how... how can I be chasing something that doesn't exist?"

Bartholomew played with his fingers timidly, looking about himself anxiously, before he rushed to the young man's side, gripping his hands. "Listen," the Beast hissed in a low whisper, "I will tell you as much as I can, but then you must leave. The Gods... they come when they hear their names called. You Humans have multiplied and taken over the world that is rightfully theirs; eradicating their temples and statues from every plain that you touch. These Gods are cruel beings to begin with, and even moreso, their hatred has been stirred by this blatant dishonour. But Skeith... he is probably the worst."

"Even the other Gods fear him...," Bartholomew hurriedly explained. "A terror, he stalks the world, lustful for his next kill. Many call him a God of Death because of his battle-lust. Everywhere he treads, a path of fire and ash is left behind; a trail of dead and lost souls mounted high like mountains. When compared to him, the other Gods are saints."

This... this was too much! "And... and what if one has been marked by him?," Silabus asked, licking his lips nervously.

The look of pity he was given was enough to tear the young man's last hopes to shred. "Then may it be swift and painless," Bartholomew answered softly. "Those who are marked by Skeith... are hardly seen of ever again."

Silabus jumped to his feet, walking away from the mole. Anxiously, he paced back and forth along the edge of the circle; suddenly afraid to tread back into those shadows. This couldn't be true! How was any of this fair? The brunet's mind denied the things that he was just told, reasoning that there had to be more. "Please...," he started, turning again to the Beast, "There has to be more! Something that you are not telling me!"

Bartholomew shook his head sadly, paws at his side. "I'm afraid there is nothing more that I can tell you. We have tried to remain diligent to the Gods, but Humans have made it hard. Their tales, passed by word of mouth, have been segmented since the loss of our tribes. What I share with you now, is all that I know," the mole explained. "And others... they will not be as sympathetic to share with you what they know of the legends. The Gods are always here, but they are neither benevolent nor merciful, and some are too afraid to even draw their attention."

"You...," Bartholomew continued, darkening Silabus' thoughts with his final words. "Are on your own, my friend."

"I see...," the brunet mumbled. He held in the sob that wanted to rise, pulling his cloak tighter and turning to the shadows. "Show me the way back out please. I must get going again."

The mole was silent behind him for a moment, before he shuffled forwards, pausing just by Silabus' side. "Follow me," he instructed regretfully, leading the way into the darkness again, and up through the tunnels to the library's sub-entrance.

* * *

><p>When they emerged above ground again, it was night. The moon sat full and heavy upon the sky, like the swollen belly of a woman about to give birth. Its largeness swallowed at least a quarter of the sky, bathing the entire world in silver. Under the pale light, and with its bustling streets void of any life, Mac Anu looked for all intent and purposes like a ghost town. Still burdened by the horrible revelation shared with him, Silabus half expected ghouls to seep from the walls and fly at him.<p>

"I'm sorry...," came Bartholomew's pained apology. The brunet had almost forgotten about the Beast's presence. Silabus turned his head, glancing at the other. "I really am," the mole continued, brow furrowed in distress. "If there was anything more that I could tell you... I would, please know that. You are a good man and I weep for your fate."

Silabus said nothing, turning his head back to the sky and its glittering spread.

"But if you are insistent on seeking out the truth," the Beast was saying still. "Then head North-East, to the old remains of the great, nameless Cathedral. In its bowels you will find the answers you wish for."

Amber eyes widened at the directions, the brunet whirling about to face the mole. But Bartholomew had already disappeared, the wall closing across the secret entrance once more and separating him from the Beast. Heart pounding with the slightest bit of terror, Silabus turned his feet to the North.

He knew he had felt the tugging in his soul to head in that direction before... and now, the reason seemed as clear as day.

He was beckoning to the call of a God.

**C.M.D: The thing I hate the most is when I've got the first half of the chapter written out... and then it takes me like forever to get the second part cranked out. Especially when the ideas are swimming right there in my head! Just... putting idea to paper... it's so difficult a task sometimes. *pout* Well, in either case, I promise a swifter update than last time, and maybe -just maybe- Skeith will finally make his appearance~  
>Be kind; give me your mind. REVIEW, please?<strong>


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